


unless the mind should be guilty

by mythpoetry



Series: Samifer Love Week 2016 [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hallucifer, Lucifer's desperate attempt to be understood, M/M, Sam's complete inability to handle a crisis without excessive sarcasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 19:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7653532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythpoetry/pseuds/mythpoetry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows his hallucinations of Lucifer aren’t actually real. He’s just not sure if that makes the situation better or worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	unless the mind should be guilty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Samifer Love Week 2016  
> July 29th & 30th prompts: Hallucifer, time in the Cage

He hadn’t slept in three days. Behind his eyes, at the back of every thought - talking and talking and talking. Background radiation; his name-as-inverted-mantra.

“Sam.”

Lucifer was still in the Cage. Sam knew that. Not just intellectually - _knew_ it, down to his bones. It didn’t seem to keep the mad puppeteer version of the devil from creeping into Sam’s life and draping himself all over it. Like he owned it. Like he belonged there, even in sleep. Which, after days of redbull and vicodin and repeatedly injuring his hand, had started to seem funny.

“Sam.”

“Right here,” Sam said. His room was dark. He didn’t quite remember where he was anymore. What town. What day.

Lucifer smiled. “How’s tricks?”

“You know, at first this was torture,” Sam said. “But as me and my brother have proven over and over again, you really can get used to anything. Then it became frustrating - the differentiation between what’s real and what’s not kind of weighed on me, you know, just a bit. Now you’re just - boring. This is all so dull to me. Repetitive and stupid.”

“Define reality,” Lucifer said.

“Excuse me?”

“Define reality,” Lucifer repeated, peering at Sam intently from his position at the end of the bed.

“Uh,” Sam paused. “Something that exists. That has a - a physical presence, or palpable effect.”

“I seem to have a quantifiable effect on you.”

“No, that’s - no. You don’t.”

“Really? When’s the last time you slept?”

“Irrelevant,” Sam said. “Nightmares keep people awake and they’re not real. Not objectively.”

“There _is_ no objective reality, Sam. And nightmares don’t keep _you_ awake.”

“Then why the fuck can’t you let me sleep,” Sam said, digging his fingers into his injured hand.

“Because you don’t want me to,” Lucifer said, still trying to keep eye contact. He rattled the bedframe and Sam started. “Sam. Listen to me. Think about this. Why am I here if you don’t want me to be?”

“Because an angel broke open a wall inside my head that was supposed to protect me from my memories of being in hell with you and my life is fucking weird,” Sam said.

Lucifer rattled the bed again. “Wrong. Wrong, wrong. Where’s all that Stanford education now?”

“It ended because my stupid older brother needed me to hunt stupid monsters.”

“This version of you is spectacularly unappealing,” Lucifer said. “All hard edges and sarcasm.”

“Great!” Sam said. “Go away now.”

“I sort of liked your naivete,” Lucifer said, moving closer. “I _liked_ that you really and truly believed that you were doing good in the world, no matter you who you had to gut in order to get there. It made for interesting reading.”

Sam had a distinct flash of Lucifer _in_ him, all cold light and burning fury, holiness that blurred the edges of his being, of sin, of everything, can hear him saying _I’m inside your grapefruit_ and feel the _fierceness_ of his presence, like fingers running sharply over a filing cabinet of secrets. He felt weirdly violated, even though the information wasn’t new, and wanted to scream.

“It was probably not very nice of you to read my brain,” was all he said.

“Sam,” Lucifer said. “I’m trying to bring you to a realization, here. You’re not being very helpful.” He tapped the edge of his mouth. “I don’t want to have to drag you through this kicking and screaming but I will, you know. Happy the play the role of the villain.”

“You’re not _playing_ ,” Sam said, and now he’d gotten really pissed off. Even echoes of Lucifer were serrated as a knife, contrarian enough just to rile him up. He knew that was probably the point but it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he had gotten _out,_ he had been lifted from the pit and lifted from his  _destiny_ and lifted from the stink of demon blood and now the devil’s ghost was waltzing around trying to drag him back into it, into the muck of sin, of Lucifer’s shining glory and temptation. In his tired and desperate state, all Sam could think was _It’s not fair. It’s not fair._ “You _are_ a villain,” he said. “That’s who you are. We are the sum total of all our actions, Lucifer. At least have the guts to own it.”

_“Yes,”_ Lucifer suddenly hissed, pushing himself into Sam’s space, “yes, _Sam_ , at least have the _decency_ to own it.”

Sam stared. There was a buzzing at the back of his head, like a nest of flies, getting louder and louder. Lucifer wasn’t real. He knew that. So the logical conclusion was only -

“Right,” Sam said. “You’re _me._ Got it. So what does that mean?” This was almost as bad as working that case with Lucifer; really and truly wanting to hear what he had to say. Sam wanted to throttle both of them. What was wrong with him?

“Not you. Or not _only_ you, anyway. Pieces of me have managed to clamor through, screaming and bleeding, to get your attention.” Lucifer smiled in that way he had, as if something sharp and terrible had been inflicted upon him so he was more than happy to do the same to the world. And he wasn’t particularly distressed about it.

“So you’re. Me and not me?”

“When an angel - chooses someone -”

_“Possesses_ them,” Sam said.

“ - there’s a kind of residue left on a person’s soul. An angelic signature that -"

“I know,” Sam said. “I know about - angelic signatures.” He remembers Aaron Birch, just a kid, victim of the police and then Heaven and then himself and his brother. Remembers just how agonized the kid looked when Castiel reached into his soul and rooted around for information. Just another face to keep Sam up at night.

Maybe he deserved this.

“So,” Lucifer said, expectantly.

“So you’re - what? Leftovers? From possessing me?”

“I really don’t like that word.”

Sam sighed. “I’m not going to tiptoe around your feelings, _Satan.”_

“Fair enough,” Lucifer said, still smiling. “See, grace is almost contagious. Think of it as an infection, changing everything it touches, even if you can’t see it, even if it’s asymptomatic. You’ve been carrying around a piece of my grace inside you since you got out of hell.”

That couldn’t be true. Sam couldn’t still be - _attached_ to Lucifer somehow, in some quantifiable way, something measurable, he had to be lying he had to be  _deceiving_ tricking him _be watchful your adversary the devil prowls -_

“Sam. Breathe.”

_“Shut up!”_ Sam said. “I don’t want any help from _you._ This is all your fault.” He pulled his hand roughly through his hair. “You caused _all_ of it. If you hadn’t tortured me I might never have needed -”

“You think I _tortured_ you?” Lucifer asked, and the incredulousness in his voice was so overwhelming that Sam paused.

“What do you mean I think?” Sam said. “That’s the whole reason you exist! That’s the whole reason I’ve been reliving my worst nightmare for the past -”

“Sam,” Lucifer said, looking panicked, “listen to me. Breaking through is hard and while this has helped, I don’t have much time. The Cage torments its inhabitants. _That’s why it was built._ To contain me and to harm me. When you decided to jump into it, that’s what you signed up for. To hold me forever. To save your brother and the world. Remember?”

“Of course, but -”

“No, listen, Sam - think for a moment. We were together, those final moments. When you pulled Michael, an _archangel,_ into the pit with us, because you knew he would never stop, would never let it go - what did we feel? Do you remember?”

_Anger, blinding anger, fury at his brother, fury at the world_ \- love for his brother, eternal shining undying love - _betrayal, abandonment all over again_ \- solidarity and comfort, despair at the loss of all, acceptance of his fate, joy at the thought of a truly free and unbound world - _acceptance of his fate, comfort in his companion, determination to succeed, determination to stop his brother, determination to -_

“You -” Sam said. He felt like a fist had closed around his throat. “You didn’t - I thought. I -"

Lucifer didn’t say anything. Just waited for Sam to get it all out.

“You _helped,_ _”_ Sam said finally. “You helped me - with Michael. You let me take us both back to your prison and you helped me take him, too.”

“He would have undone everything. We’d have both been caged and it would have been for nothing.”

“Why?”

Lucifer looked away. “It was what you wanted. So I wanted - well. I _accepted_ it, at least. Under the circumstances it was the only winning hand I had.” He gave Sam a small smile. “ _We_ had.”

“You tried to walk away,” Sam said, horrified. It had all flooded back now. _Let’s just walk off the chessboard_ Lucifer had begged to Michael, and Michael had called him a freak, a monster, blamed him for a world without their Father, said it was his duty to kill him.

Lucifer flickered, first grinning, then frowning, a split-image like a cracked mirror. “Like I said,” he reminded Sam, “I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Why are you telling me all of this now?”

“The grace of mine you have inside you,” Lucifer said. “It’s powerful. Maybe even could be used to free me, if you were so inclined.” He looked at Sam urgently, held up his hand when Sam made a sound of protest. “Remember what I told you? The first thing I said, when you came to see me. In Detroit.”

_Sorry if it’s a bit chilly. Most people think I burn hot. It’s actually quite the opposite._ “I remember,” Sam said.

“Good. Then you’ll understand what it means when I say that Michael and I are complete _opposites_. He burns _hot._ Flaming sword and all.”

The fire of Sam’s visions, his skin burning up, the agony of what he didn’t want to remember in hell, eternal flame licking at his flesh -

“It wasn’t you,” Sam said, realization dawning. “It was _Michael.”_

“Sam,” Lucifer said quickly, his image superimposed over another version of himself, “look, I know - I know everything that happened, but you need to know - I never hurt you - it wasn’t -”

Sam’s head protested as a shrill shriek rang out. Lucifer was smiling, holding a whistle in his hands.

“No sleeping,” he said cruelly.

Sam smiled. After all, it wasn’t the worst this impostor could do.


End file.
